


In the Closet

by notoneforreality



Series: QB-B3 007 Fest 2020 [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, 007 Fest 2020, Autistic Character, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M, Matchmaking, Prompt Fill, Q is Autistic, Relationship Reveal, Secret Relationship, Stimming, Team Q Branch, Trapped In A Closet, autistic traits, everyone is far too invested in Q and Bond's love life, the cats are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneforreality/pseuds/notoneforreality
Summary: R thinks Q needs a boyfriend. So does Eve. And Bill. And Gareth. And Carter and Trevelyan. So they're going to help.Q thinks he's doing just fine on his own, thank you.
Relationships: James Bond/Q, R/Agent Bobby Carter
Series: QB-B3 007 Fest 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795726
Comments: 11
Kudos: 156





	In the Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for--  
> Thie prompt from the 2017 anon list: In which everyone tries to set up Q and James, little do they know that they are already together

“You need a boyfriend,” R decides one morning, when she and Q have been trawling through a particularly nasty code for the better part of three hours. She sits back and spins the office chair to face Q, arms and legs crossed.

Q hums, noncommittal. 

“You do,” R says. “The cats aren’t good enough.”

“Excuse you, the cats are angels,” Q says indignant, despite the fact that they are not even close to being angels; Rameses is a hellcat and Romulus follows his example far too much.

R gives him a disbelieving look, then brightens. “I bet I can get you a date.”

“Please don’t,” Q says, fixing a broken piece of code. 

Next to him, R is already rubbing her hands together like half the villains Q has watched through various cameras attached to or following Double-oh agents. 

He raises an eyebrow, “Please don’t make this your villain origin story.”

R cackles. It’s perhaps too late for that.

* * *

“You have a date,” Eve tells Q at eighteen twenty four on Thursday. “Tonight at eight, at the new Italian restaurant across the river.”

Q glances at her with faint horror, and then turns his attention back to where Double-oh Seven is in the middle of a sword fight with weapons stolen from a decorative display. There’s not much he can do to be of use to Bond currently, but he keeps an eye on the situation anyway.

“No thank you,” he says, running his fingernails together, listening to the clacking noise. “And please stop conspiring with R.”

“I’m not conspiring with R.”

Q pulls his attention from the CCTV footage to fix Eve with his best unimpressed look.

“I’m conspiring with Bill, who’s conspiring with R.”

“Bill?” Q knew that the poker nights were a mistake. Gareth, Bill, and Eve were already a formidable force, and he’d been a fool in thinking the introducing R would be anything other than dangerous. 

Eve’s grin is sharp. “Eight o’clock, La Cena.”

“What’s happening at eight o’clock?” Bond’s voice rings out through the speakers. When Q turns back to the camera, Bond iss crouched over an unconscious body, rifling through the pockets.

“Q’s got a date,” Eve says, promptly.

“I don’t want this,” Q tells both of them. “I did not ask for any of this.”

“Dress nice,” Eve says. 

* * *

The date goes surprisingly well, especially given the fact that Q sits down opposite the man — Mark, he says his name is — and says, “I’m very sorry but I am here against my will.”

Mark laughs and says, “Okay, but while we’re here, we might as well eat.”

They talk about coding, about the latest film that Q hasn’t seen, about the Daily Mail’s outrageous headline this morning. It’s pleasant conversation, for all that Q spends the whole meal with his leg bouncing beneath the table, and pleasant food, and Mark wishes him well when they leave.

Still, Q turns up in Eve’s office and tells her in no uncertain terms that he refuses to go on dates with completely strangers.

She cocks her head.

“Okay,” she says, and Q should know that he’s missed something then, but he doesn’t. Instead he goes back to Q-Branch and spends most of the morning fending off R’s excited questions.

* * *

The next poker night is infiltrated by Double-oh agents. Agents Carter, Trevelyan, and Bond turn up outside Q’s flat in Stratford half an hour before the others arrive, bearing alcohol, and cheese. When Q raises his eyebrows, Bond raises a bag containing Tesco’s lemonade and Dairy Milk.

He lets them in. Gareth, Bill, Eve, and R turn up at the customary time, and none of them seem surprised. R grins and heads straight for her girlfriend, escaping Q’s disapproving glare, but the other three pause in the door. Gareth and Bill cower a little, but Eve just crosses her arms and smirks.

Q sighs and lets them past. At the very least it could be interesting watching an agent versus management poker game. He’ll be dealer and then at least he doesn’t have to worry about being bluffed out of half his bank account.

In the meantime, while everyone’s saying their hellos, Q goes to sort out the food and drink, setting out bowls and glasses on the coffee table. When he returns from shoving the empty crisp packets into the bin, Eve has dictated the seating arrangements, and Q finds a space waiting for him between Trevelyan and Bond.

The night passes enjoyably, for all that Eve and R keep eyeing Q, despite the fact that they should be watching their opponents. Eve still wins just fewer than half the games, and all R’s lost money is quickly recouped by Carter. Trevelyan wins two games, Bond three, and Gareth one, and Bill seems to thoroughly enjoy himself, even though he goes home nearly two hundred quid poorer.

Everyone except Q gets drunk, and Q gets tired and starts listing to one side, knocking into Bond’s shoulder every so often before pulling himself back upright.

When he sees everyone off at half past three in the morning, Eve give him one of her shark grins and tangles her arm with Bond’s. Trevelyan, last to leave, looks at them, and looks at Q.

Q shrugs.

* * *

“Bond is good looking,” R says on Monday evening as she and Q leave the branch, apropos of nothing.

Q frowns. “You have a girlfriend.”

“I’m just saying…,” she says, but the grin she sends his way has definite shades of nefarious intent. Q pesters her about it, but she won’t give up anything else, and eventually they have to take opposite turns to get home, and the conversation has to end.

* * *

“It’s hardly a mystery why he does so well on honeypot missions,” Eve says of Bond on Tuesday afternoon, as they watch him through a hotel’s CCTV cameras. “I wonder why they never send him in to seduce the men straight out, rather than seducing their wives. You know he’s just as interested either way.”

Her voice is too casual, the comment too offhand, and Q squints at her and hums. Then Bond nearly gets himself blown up and Q has to turn his attention back to his job.

* * *

“It’s a good thing there aren’t any rules against inter-office relationships,” Bill says, Wednesday morning, arms crossed and watching R and Carter test weapons on the range. 

Q turns a baleful look on him. He’s starting to work out what Eve and R think they’re up to, but he was hoping to avoid any of the nonsense from Bill.

“Those two are very happy together,” Q says, and immediately changes the subject to the stats of the weapon those two are currently using.

* * *

“Agent Double-oh Seven has put in a request to avoid specific honeypot missions,” Gareth says, turning up in Q-Branch on Thursday for no reason that Q can see other than to cause him stress.

“No,” Q says.

Gareth raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure it’s in your job description to decide which missions are or aren’t allocated to different agents.”

“I’m not sure it’s in your job description to meddle in your staff’s personal lives,” Q says, and turns back to his laptop, determined to ignore Gareth until he leaves.

* * *

“You know what the best thing about dating a coworker is?” On Friday, Carter lounges across R’s lap with complete disregard for the fact that R is supposed to be working on their finances or else the accounting team with have both her and Q’s heads.

“I feel like you’re going to tell me either way,” Q says, voice and face flat.

“Yup,” Carter says, beaming. “It’s being able to talk all about everything that goes on without worrying about spilling state secrets.”

“Thanks for you insight,” Q says. “R, have you finished the budget spreadsheet, yet?”

* * *

“Oi, Q,” Trevelyan calls, in the office on Saturday morning for a reason that is beyond Q. 

Q eyes him, wary. If he tries to say something about Bond, Q might just send him to the range with a faulty taser. 

Trevelyan doesn’t say anything about Bond. Instead he says, “Can you help me with something? You’re just about lanky enough to fit.”

Frowning, Q follows him through various corridors to a cupboard that he recognises as belonging to one of the admin teams. There are a few filing cabinets inside, as far as he can remember, and he doesn’t know what Trevelyan could need him for.

When he’s shoved into the cupboard and hears the lock click shut behind him, Q sighs. He should have expected this.

“Why are we friends with these idiots?” He asks the darkness.

“You were the one who said I needed to talk to more people,” Bond’s voice says.

Q huffs a sigh and leans forward, falling into Bond’s chest. “They’re interfering idiots.” He pauses. “And blind, apparently.”

“They’ve been trying to set me up with you all week,” Bond say, folding his arms around Q.

“Oh good. At least I haven’t been the only one suffering.” He tips his head back and squints up at a darker patch of shadow that he thinks is Bond’s head. “What did Gareth tell you?”

“That I wasn’t contractually obliged to continue taking honeypot missions if they made me uncomfortable, if I wanted to settle down with someone.”

“Bastard,” Q says without much heat. “He told me you asked to quit them. You know I’m fine with it either way, don’t you?”

“Of course.” The patch of darkness bends down, and the conversation is paused for a moment. 

Bond’s breath ghosts over Q’s lips, waiting, giving Q a chance to say no — they’re still at work, even though no one can see them, and Q has Rules about that — but Q taps his fist twice against Bond’s shoulder and then leans up to initiate the kiss himself. 

“It’s very quiet in there,” someone shouts through the door, and Q lets himself fall back against Bond’s chest again, feeling the rumble of laughter in the sternum pressed to his ear.

“They cannot think this is thanks to them,” he says. “They’ll be insufferable.”

Bond hums. “Well, while they’re expecting us to be kissing anyway, we might as well take the opportunity.”

Q considers this. “Yes. They can wait.” And he reaches back up to Bond again.

**Author's Note:**

> Keep notes:  
> \--back at it again with the determined crowbarring in of some italian somewhere  
> \--Bond and Q have done so well for all this time and then Eve watches them for one (1) poker night in which Q maybe almost rest his head on Bond's shoulder a couple of times and is like 'oh I have an idea'. I mean I guess they still managed to hide their relationship, just not their mutual affection  
> \--literally everyone is invested in this and none of them are subtle  
> \--where are the cats during the poker night? idk. let's pretend they're hiding in Q's room adn also pretend that I just forgot to address this in the fic itself


End file.
